


Homecoming

by my_deer_friend



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex is a sweetheart in this one, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Issues, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28282998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_deer_friend/pseuds/my_deer_friend
Summary: When John has a falling out with his father and doesn't go home for the holidays, Alex makes it his mission to take his friend - who he's been crushing on for months - on a fun, distracting Christmas Eve outing.But things don't always go as planned. Sometimes they turn out much better.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Comments: 32
Kudos: 91





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly this could be the sweetest, fluffiest thing I've ever written??

“Laurens!” Alex claps his hand on John’s shoulder as he sidles over and drops down on the corner of his desk. The office has thinned out as people head off for their holiday celebrations and they’re some of the last people left. “You. Me. Drinks after work. You in?”

John looks up at him, first in surprise and then in confusion. “Oh - hey, Alex. What are you talking about?”

Alex rolls his eyes with a grin. “Drinks. You know - alcohol? Socialising?”

“Asshole,” John scoffs. “No - I mean, it’s Christmas Eve.”

The fact that John sounds genuinely perplexed makes Alex swallow his instinctive overwrought sigh. Over the last six months, they’ve gone from strangers to colleagues to good friends - and if there’s one thing Alex has learnt about John, is that he can be a little dense when it comes to social interactions. He’s perfectly friendly and polite, sure, but it’s almost like he can’t quite fathom why people would want to spend time with him. It’s ridiculous, because John is funny and considerate. Smart. Opinionated. Generous, in an unpretentious and self-effacing sort of way. 

And very easy on the eye. Let’s not forget that. Alex can’t deny he’s still crushing hard after all these months.

But although his looks are what draw Alex in this first place, he’s glad he’s taken the time to actually get to know John instead of wasting his chance at a friendship on some shameless flirting. Oh, he’d _tried_ to flirt a little at the start, but not only did all of that seem to go over John’s head, Alex also quickly picked up that John was in a bit of a delicate place, coming out of a long-term relationship and still not completely comfortable with his sexuality.

So Alex knows he needs to tread lightly. Make it clear this is a friend-thing, not a date-thing.

Instead of rolling his eyes, he bites the inside of his cheek and gives John a meaningful look. “Well, I don’t have any plans, and you’re still here, so - I was hoping you could keep me company.”

John raises an eyebrow. “ _You_ don’t have plans? Really?”

Alex shrugs. “It’s Christmas. People usually do family stuff.”

“Ah,” John says, then his face falls. “Yeah.”

What Alex _doesn’t_ say is that he’s overheard John on the phone a few times in the last few weeks, having heated but hushed conversations with his sister Martha and at least one of his brothers. Alex didn’t quite catch the full story, but John had said ‘I’m not apologising this time’ and ‘he can speak to me directly if he really wants’ enough times that he picked up the most important point - John isn’t going back home for the holidays. He’s stuck in the city, all alone - just like Alex.

And Alex knows how much that sucks. At Christmastime, it’s generally assumed that everyone has _some_ sort of family to spend time with, so he’s become an expert at inventing distractions and substitutes and avoiding other people’s pitying looks like the plague. 

He thinks he can put this niche skill to use for the greater good, this year - to give John a fun distraction, without making it look like he is making any kinds of romantic overtures, and without this looking like pity.

And if Alex is perfectly honest, this plan isn’t entirely unselfish. This is a raw time of the year for him too, and he could do much worse than an evening out with John.

“So, will you save me from the misery of eating takeout alone in bed and hate-watching a cheesy holiday romcom?”

John huffs, then shrugs. A hint of a blush appears beneath his freckles. “You know what - sure. What did you have in mind?”

\-----

“You said smart-casual!” John protests.

“Yeah,” Alex says, his eyes still a little wide. “But I see we have different definitions of what that means.” He’s wearing black jeans and a decent button-up shirt and a cardigan under his coat. Smart. _Casual._

And John? Well, he looks amazing - if rather overdressed - in his fitted blazer and neatly pressed suit pants, a black shirt and an elegant grey scarf looped around his neck. 

John laughs. “I don’t want to upstage you. Should I go home and change?”

“No, you-- You look great,” Alex says with a genuine smile. “Shall we?”

He found the perfect spot - an upmarket bar and bistro specialising in contemporary southern cooking, where the menu says _artisanal_ and _hand-crafted_ a lot, and the atmosphere is brisk and modern rather than romantic. Although the plan was just to have drinks, he’s hoping the theme might entice John to stay for dinner too, and then maybe they can come up with other fun stuff to do afterwards. 

Or at least it _looked_ fairly neutral on the website. Alex wipes away his cringe when he steps inside and sees that the space has been infused with a cosy, festive air. He gives his name at the door, and the host leads them over to a small table close to the crackling fireplace - the bar was fully booked, but there was a last-minute cancellation and they were able to squeeze them in here. The light here is dim, and there’s a single candle on the table in the midst of a festive centrepiece. There are bigger family tables at the front of the restaurant, but this quiet back area seems to have been reserved for couples.

There’s an awkward little shuffle where they bump into each other going for the same seat. John flinches back and moves over to the other side of the table.

“This is, ah - romantic,” John teases as he sits down.

Alex groans. “Shut up.”

When the waiter brings the wine menu, she hesitates for a second about who to give it to, and both Alex and John reach for it at the same time. Their fingers touch for just a second.

“My ideas to go out for drinks, so my treat,” Alex insists.

John levels him with a look. “Okay, but do you know anything about wine?”

Alex shrugs. “Red. White. And there’s like, a pink one?”

John laughs and tugs the menu out of his hand. “You get the food and I’ll get drinks - deal?”

Success. “Oh, so we’re having dinner too?”

John looks up, a momentary flash of confusion and worry on his face. “Oh - um, sorry, we don’t have to - I just figured since--”

“Smart,” Alex interrupts, keeping his voice casual as he picks up the menu. “I’m actually starving. Plus that means we can drink more.”

John snorts. “You really do have a one-track mind.”

Alex shrugs and pretends to look at the menu, though he already picked something out when he reviewed the options online. John finishes with the wine list and then takes a look himself.

“Oh wow,” he says after a moment. “They do oxtail here. And okra. And pineapple cake.”

Alex tries not to grin too broadly at the hint of lightness in John’s voice. He thought hard about whether choosing something nostalgic for John was a good idea, but in the end he decided that some home comforts would be the right thing, despite how tender the idea of home might feel right now.

“Get all of it,” Alex says.

“It’s a lot,” John said. “Oh damn, fried pickles. You ever had those?”

Alex closes his menu firmly, discarding his order in a heartbeat. “We’ll share. You choose.”

John raises both eyebrows. “Okay, then we have to try the catfish too.” When Alex makes a face, he adds, “Trust me.”

The waiter returns with their wine, and John orders about half the menu. They clink their glasses together and drink quietly for a moment.

“So,” Alex says, breaking the silence. “Why aren’t you going home this year?”

John opens his mouth like he wants to shoot back an instinctive dismissal, but he closes it again and sighs heavily. “I got into a fight with my dad.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I guess it’s been simmering for a while, and usually when we argue I end up caving, but - I just couldn’t, this time.”

Alex takes a sip of wine. “I’m glad you stood up for yourself.”

But John just shakes his head, eyes scrunched up, so Alex takes a different tack.

“He’ll come around,” he says.

John shrugs and looks off into the middle distance. “It really sucks, though,” he says. “Christmas is all about family, traditions, stuff like that. It just doesn't feel the same without seeing everyone - even dad. You know?”

“Not really,” Alex says. “Not to be a downer, but I didn’t have a stable situation growing up, and anyway half the time we were celebrating the Jewish holidays instead. Long story,” he adds quickly, before John can ask. “But! That doesn’t mean we can’t try to do all the same christmassy stuff that you would do at home. Tell me about some of your favourite things.”

John looks away towards the fireplace, and a soft smile starts on his lips. “My uncle James makes amazing eggnog, and even as kids we were allowed to have a little.”

“Gross.”

“Hey - it’s really good.”

Alex shrugs. The idea of drinking raw eggs is not appealing. “And I bet you kids all got mountains of presents.”

John rolls his eyes. “No, actually, we didn’t. My folks insisted we give the money to some charities instead. Well, we always got a big tree, of course, and mom got us to write a wish on a piece of ribbon and tie it to one of the branches. As kids we’d always ask for selfish stuff, like toys - oh and there was the one year we all got together and agreed to collectively wish for a puppy.”

“Team effort. I like it.”

“Yeah, pity it didn’t work,” John laughs, his eyes lost in the memory of it. Then his smile turns more sombre. “Later on we were all just wishing that mom would get better.”

“Ah. Sorry.”

John shrugs. “We’d also take turns putting the gold star on top. I would get so annoyed when the younger kids got added to the roster and my turn was pushed out.” Alex laughs, though he struggles to imagine John having such a petty thought. “And I even remember a time when I was so small that dad had to pick me up so I could reach.”

Alex snorts. “Bet you would be the one picking _him_ up these days.”

John doesn’t smile back, just twists his lip thoughtfully. 

Alex reaches out and puts his hand on John’s. “What did you fight about?” 

“It was really dumb,” John says, shaking his head and gently pulling his hand away.

“Well,” Alex says, looking at their table and surroundings meaningfully. “Clearly not, since you’re here.”

John sighs heavily. “After Francis and I broke up, he started fishing around, asking questions about who I was seeing and suggesting that I meet up with every eligible girl in the greater Charleston area. I guess he thought I had gotten the whole ‘being gay’ thing out of my system or something.”

“Yeah. Not how that works.”

“Right?” John agrees, finishing his last sip of wine and then pouring some more for both of them. “So I told him I was seeing someone else - another guy - and boy did he not like that.”

Alex’s stomach drops. “Oh? Who is it?”

“No one,” John sighs, and Alex’s heart starts beating again. “Just - uh, made someone up.” That faint blush is on his cheeks again.

“Sneaky. Didn’t know you had that in you, Laurens.”

“Yes, well, it backfired spectacularly. I could tell something was up, and when we were making plans for me to come down a few weeks ago, he said that if I couldn’t - and I quote - ‘have a little decency’, then I had to come down alone.”

“Wow,” Alex says.

“Yeah.” John swirls the wine in his glass absently.

“That’s… John, that’s not dumb. Your dad is being a huge asshole.”

John narrows his eyes. “You think?”

Alex can’t suppress his scoff. “Um. Yeah. He shouldn’t be treating _who you are_ as some sort of personal affront to him.”

John chews this over, and the line of his brow gets angrier. “Yeah, I guess when you put it like that…”

Alex leans in and puts his hand on John’s forearm. This time, John looks down at it, then back up to meet Alex’s eyes, something like a question in his gaze. “Forget him being conservative or old or whatever,” Alex says. “He’s an adult, and if he can’t come to terms with something as straightforward as that, it’s not on _you_ to fix it.” Then, perhaps it’s the wine talking, but Alex gets a brilliant idea. “You wanna mess with him?”

John raises an eyebrow. “How?”

“Well,” Alex looks around pointedly. “We are out, and since you could use a pretend boyfriend for one evening...”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” John says with an embarrassed half-smile.

“You didn’t.”

“Ah. Yeah.” John cringes a little and looks down at his napkin. “What were you thinking?”

Alex leans back in his chair, slinging one arm over the backrest. “Oh, you know, we could just run around and take some couple-y shots - hit all the big cheesy sights in the city.” 

“Oh. Right. So just photos?”

“Just photos.” Alex narrows his eyes mischievously. “Or did you have something more in mind?”

John goes scarlet. “No, no, nothing!”

And then - something about the way John cringes and shifts awkwardly in his chair, looking away… It clicks. The blushes? The little hesitations and moments of contact? The odd glances when John thinks Alex isn’t looking?

Shit - is John into him too?

Feeling the urgent need to test his suspicion, Alex stands up from his chair and whips out his phone, tapping on the camera app. “May as well start now,” he says lightly, and comes around to John’s side of the table.

John watches him warily, and does that awkward little shift in his seat again when Alex drapes an arm around his shoulders and stretches out his arm to take the selfie. John smells really good this close up, Alex notices, as he presses his cheek against the side of John’s neck and smiles coyly into the lens. He can feel John’s raised heartbeat thudding just below his skin, and sees how the smile he gives the camera is a little forced and self-conscious. He takes a few shots, and then squeezes John’s shoulder lightly when he pulls away.

“Here,” he says, flipping through the photos and choosing the best one. “Send him that.”

As John takes out his phone to fiddle nervously with the cropping and compose a message, Alex studies him with a delighted glow that he tries to keep out of his expression. Yeah, all the clues make it pretty clear John likes him back. But although Alex now knows he can make a move, it’s going to be a lot more satisfying to give John the chance to figure it out for himself - and to be the one who takes the leap.

Oh, Alex thinks, this might be his most fun Christmas yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, part 2!

Realising that John likes him back gives Alex a delightful opportunity. He decides to make a game out of seeing how obviously he can come onto him without John reacting or responding in kind. 

But John, unfortunately, is the perfect gentleman.

Alex starts small. When their mountain of food arrives, he asks John about all of it, and gazes up with a big smile as John regales him with factoids and personal memories. Somehow the food tastes better the more Alex learns about it - and he has to admit that the catfish, although oily, really is pretty good. 

Alex tries to find casual ways to touch John’s hand - a careless bump as they both reach for the same dish, a friendly pat when John says something funny - but each time John doesn’t react except to carefully move his hand out of reach again.

He strains his budget by insisting on another bottle of wine, and then on paying half of the total bill, even though John absolutely demands to be allowed to cover it since he’s the one who chose everything.

“But I invited you out!” Alex says.

“Yes, for drinks. The rest is on me.”

“But then,” Alex says with a smirk, “I’d feel obliged to pay you back somehow.”

John goes a little pink. “Um.” He hesitates. “Okay, fine, we’ll split it - but you must take the leftovers home.”

Alex glances at the sizeable stack of takeout containers. “Deal.”

With that handled, they step out onto the chilly streets. 

“Okay, so what’s next for Operation Mess With Henry Laurens?”

John cringes. “Look, you really don’t have to--”

“Nonsense.” Alex waves a hand. “I’m already implicated, and I have nothing better to do. Have you even seen all the holiday sights in the city yet?”

“Uhh…”

“That settles it. Come on.”

They cut through Central Park and take a few pictures in various festive-looking spots under trees draped with fairy lights, and each time Alex snuggles in just a little closer, holds on just a little longer, and then doesn’t step back quite as far when they’re done. By the time they reach the ice skating rink, they’re practically shoulder to shoulder - though when they see the snaking queue, they think better of their plan.

“I’m useless on the ice, anyway,” Alex says, regretting that he’s lost the opportunity to hang off John’s arm. “At least this way I can preserve my ego.”

“It’s not that hard. The trick is to pretend you know what you’re doing. If you hesitate, that’s when you fall over.”

Alex rolls his eyes at John when he looks away. He’s not one to give lessons about hesitation.

Instead, they head down Fifth Avenue, taking photos in front of some of the holiday storefronts and then the big Rockerfeller tree. There’s a sizable crowd there, so they have to press together closely to get a shot.

“Here, you take it,” Alex says, handing over his phone. “Your arm is longer.”

With his hand free, he makes his most audacious move yet. He places his palm over John’s chest, and just as he’s about to take the shot, Alex leans up - his eyes trained firmly on the phone - and presses a kiss to John’s cheek.

The expression John makes, which Alex sees captured in the snapshot, is a perfect blend of horror and joy.

Despite whatever misgivings he may have, John doesn’t draw away from him, so Alex presses his advantage as soon as they are clear of the crowd again. “I’m cold,” he says, wrapping his arms around himself and stepping suggestively closer to John.

“You want my scarf?” John offers, his voice just a little rough.

“Mmm,” Alex says, trying not to roll his eyes. “I think your arm would be warmer.”

John looks confused. “My--?”

So Alex snorts, and grabs John’s sleeve, and pulls the arm up over his shoulders.

John allows it. “Ah.”

“Much better,” Alex hums, and before he can reconsider he slides his own arm around John’s back and grips onto his waist. “There. You’re saving my delicate constitution.”

They continue walking down the street, talking comfortably about nothing in particular, and after a little while Alex realises they’ve completely forgotten about taking more photos. He doesn’t remind John. This is much more pleasant.

Then, for a long while, they just walk together in comfortable silence - and Alex formulates a plan.

“Hey, so,” he murmurs, his arm still around John’s waist and John’s still across his shoulders. “You wanna come back to my place?”

He grins to himself when he feels a jolt run through John’s body, and hears his sharp little breath. “Um.”

“Oh, it’s just that I could use a hand setting up my tree. And, well - I was thinking we could do some of those christmas traditions of yours,” Alex continues innocently, pretending he hasn’t noticed the way John’s arm has gone awkwardly stiff.

“Oh. Right.” John hesitates, and seems like he’s on the verge of saying no, so Alex snuggles in a little closer. John sighs. “Okay.”

They catch the subway, but now John keeps his hands firmly to himself, one jammed in his pocket and the other gripping the railing. Alex almost feels sorry for him, but then again - he’s pretty sure John _is_ interested, and anyway, he’s an adult. If he didn’t want to come along, he could just say so.

When they get out at the nearest station, Alex hands the bag of takeout boxes to John, pops into a bodega for a few supplies, then rejoins him on the street. 

“What have you got there?”

“Surprise,” Alex says. “It’s just a few blocks, you fine walking?”

“Sure,” John says, sounding only a little like he’s heading to the gallows.

\-----

Alex only remembers to get self-conscious about his tiny apartment when they’re one floor away. He makes John wait outside the closed door while he dashes in and throws armfuls of scattered clothes and junk into the tiny walk-in closet wholesale, then neatens up the bed - just in case! - and hides the worst of the dirty dishes in the broken oven.

He opens the door with a flourish, only a little red-faced.

“Sorry,” he says, as John steps inside and starts to take off his coat. “Wasn’t expecting company.” He certainly was _not_ expecting the night to go quite so well in one respect - or to get all the way into his apartment without a single romantic overture from John.

He leads John into the main room - kitchen, living and dining areas all squashed together - and waves a hand enthusiastically towards the tiny christmas tree jammed next to his TV on the stand. There are a few mismatched ornaments hanging sadly off its plastic branches.

“See? Told you I had a tree!”

“So you did,” John scoffs as his eyes travel across the room, taking it all in. 

“Yeah.” The room feels too small - probably because it is. “Sorry,” he says again. “It’s, uh, pretty cosy in here.”

“No, I like it,” John says, stepping over to read some of the spines on his overflowing bookshelf. “I couldn’t imagine anywhere that felt more like the place you live.”

“Chaotic?” Alex laughs. “Messy?”

“Comfortable,” John counters. 

“Oh.”

To mask his sudden flush, Alex stows the leftovers in the fridge and starts pulling items out of his shopping bag.

“Eggnog,” he says, brandishing the miniature bottle of Baileys. “Or close enough, at least. Ribbons. Lights. Tinsel. Gold star,” and here he produces a little decorative gold bow, the kind you stick on top of wrapped gifts. “Oh and I stuck five bucks into the donation tin at the counter, but they couldn’t give me a receipt for that so you’ll just have to take my word for it.”

John’s face breaks into a big, wobbly smile. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” Alex shrugs. “That’s what makes it better.”

“Thanks,” John says in a smaller voice, and because the mood risks getting too maudlin, Alex claps his hands. 

“So - what’s the order of ceremonies here?”

“Well, okay,” John says. “We should get the tree decorated first. The star goes on last, of course. Then the wishes, and finally the - ah, the eggnog.”

They take far too long getting the tiny tree decorated, partly because of a heated debate about whether the lights should go on first - it’s more atmospheric, argues John - or last - then you get more sparkle, Alex maintains. Alex eventually wins by invoking the risk of a fire hazard if the lights get too smothered, so they pack the tiny tree with tinsel first, then re-hang the meagre ornaments before wrapping the string of lights around it. Alex switches off the overhead lights and the room descends into a merry, colourful glow.

There’s a single piece of green tinsel left, so Alex sneaks up beside John and loops it around the back of his neck, then holds the ends. “Perfect,” he says with a grin. “We should take another picture for your dad.”

Then he realises that John is looking at him. Intently. His eyes are narrowed just a little, almost like he’s asking a silent question.

Alex’s heart skips a beat. They are standing pretty close together - and the heaviness of John’s eyes is only drawing him closer. 

But - frustratingly - John doesn't do anything other than gaze at him. Alex wants nothing more than just to lean up on his toes and-- _No._ He needs _John_ to make the first move.

Alex steps back reluctantly and pulls out his phone.

“How about we get a shot of you putting the star on top?” he suggests, waving at the little gold bow. 

John lets out a breath - something right between a laugh and a sigh - and reaches for it. He unsticks the backing, then attaches it to the very top branch of the little plastic tree, pressing down a few times to make it stick.

Alex clicks away, catching the look of concentration that furrows John’s brow, then the little contemplative smile, then the bigger grin as John turns towards him.

“There’s some good ones here. Okay. Now for the wishes.”

Alex digs out a permanent marker, jots down his wish with a sly smile, then hands the pen to John - who takes considerably longer, worrying his lip as he hovers over the little strip of ribbon.

“You trying to decide what breed of puppy you want?” Alex jokes. 

John huffs. “Nah, that’s easy - german shepherd. I’m just-- I guess I can’t put it into words. It’s more of a feeling.”

“Shit. I don’t think they sell those on Amazon…”

“You’re the worst,” John laughs. “Okay.” He scribbles something down quickly.

“Hang mine up too?” Alex asks, handing his strip of ribbon over as nonchalantly as he can.

John steps over to the tree and ties his own ribbon onto the branch with a neat bow. Then he glances down at Alex’s - who is instantly flushed with nerves as he watches John run the ribbon through his fingers, on which he has neatly lettered his wish.

_Just kiss me already!_

Alex watches John take it in - he narrows his eyes, then shifts the set of his shoulders. He’s just about to apologise, to make a joke, to admit he’s taken things too far - when, in a sudden burst of motion, John turns, takes three big strides across the room, and slides his hand around to the back of Alex’s neck. A second later their lips are pressed together - burning hot and intent and utterly overwhelming.

Alex inhales sharply into the kiss, then presses the whole length of his body up against John’s, parting his lips and melting forward as John’s other arm slides around his waist. 

John kisses him with a passion and fire Alex wasn’t expecting, and with a sweet tenderness that is all _him_ \- the combination makes him giddy, but it also sparks a flame of arousal right at the base of his belly. Yes, he thinks. Yes, this is exactly right.

After another long, insistent, devouring kiss, John pulls back just far enough that his eyes can meet his.

“Alex,” he breathes.

“Yeah?” It comes out rough, eager.

John slides his hand tentatively to the curve of his jaw. Alex feels his breath hitch, and he leans into the touch, pressing his cheek more firmly into John’s hand and dragging his lips lightly against the side of John’s palm.

“Fuck,” John whispers, and then strokes gently along Alex’s cheekbone with one thumb.

Unable to escape the gravity of John’s intent gaze, Alex leans forward and tilts up his chin. John’s gaze darkens, and his nose nudges against Alex’s. They are so close that Alex can feel the little whispers of John’s breath against his lips.

Somehow this is even more intimate than the blistering kiss they just shared.

“I’ve been waiting all night for you to do that,” Alex murmurs.

“Oh?” John replies, quiet but intent. “I did notice you staring.”

Alex bites his lip. “You did?"

John chuckles. "Of course. You were being very obvious about it."

"Yes, well. Hard to keep my eyes off you.” 

“Your hands, too.”

"Yeah."

“Well,” John murmurs, inching his face forward so that his words ghost over Alex’s lips. “You’d better not stop now.”

\-----

John rises gently out of his dreams and realises that reality, for once, is even sweeter. He slowly becomes aware of the warm back pressed against his chest - _Alex_ \- and the wonderful smell of his hair, scented with vanilla shampoo and a hint of sweat from last night’s activities.

He lies there for a long while, just marveling, appreciating the situation he’s found himself in. Fierce, loud, lovely, cocky Alex, just lying here perfectly quiet and peaceful in the circle of his arms.

Almost like John’s intent gaze is a physical nudge, Alex stirs, then turns around and blinks his eyes open sleepily. A big smile spreads over his face.

“Morning, handsome,” he murmurs.

John smiles. “Merry Christmas.”

He leans down to give Alex a kiss. This one is sweet and gentle, not at all like their hungry kisses last night, though his lip still feel a little sensitive from where Alex bit it raw in the throes of passion. Alex hums contentedly, then snuggles into his chest.

“Haven’t slept that well in ages,” Alex quips.

John laughs as he caresses the side of Alex’s arm with his fingers. “Did I manage to tire you out?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Alex says, but the teasing note is entirely fond.

“Funny. That’s not the tune you were singing last night.”

“Yes, well. Not my fault you kept your - ah - _talents_ so well hidden.”

“Hmm.” He kisses Alex’s forehead. “We never had your fake eggnog.”

“We were busy,” Alex shrugs. “We could have some later, plus I have a fridge of leftovers that I could use your help with. Oh, that is, if-- Well, if you’d like to stay?”

John smiles softly. “Sounds good to me.”

They hold each other close for a little while longer, until Alex shifts away and groans.

“Much as I like this. Coffee.” 

“I thought you slept well?” John teases.

Alex scowls. “Yeah, Laurens, and your point is?”

“Fine, fine.”

John relinquishes his hold, but only long enough for Alex to stumble into the kitchen and pour water into the coffee machine. He steps up close behind him as Alex is fiddling with the filter and slides his arms around Alex’s midsection. He nuzzles behind Alex’s ear, then leaves a trail of kisses down his neck and across his shoulder.

Alex sighs and leans into him. “It’s like having my own affectionate space heater.”

The peaceful moment is disrupted when John’s phone rings beside them on the counter. John looks over at the screen. 

“My father.”

“Do you have to?” Alex asks, a little petulantly.

John considers for only a second. “Yeah. Won’t be long.”

He slips his arms off Alex and walks into the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. He answers the phone.

“Hi, dad.”

“Jack.” His father sounds wary. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

There is a bit of a pause, but for once John doesn’t feel the anxious need to fill it. Eventually, Henry speaks. “We missed having you at dinner.”

“Oh.” John wasn’t sure what to expect from this call, but it was certainly not the contrite tone in his father’s voice. “I did make it clear why I couldn’t be there.”

Henry sighs. “You did. I see now that perhaps I was too rash in my comments. You are a young man, Jack, and I suppose it is no longer my duty to shield and guide you.”

“No,” John says, vehement but calm, “Of _course_ you need to do those things. You’re my father, and I’m always going to count on you for advice. But - _this_ isn't something I need to be protected from. It’s just who I am.”

Henry hums. “Yes, I am beginning to see that, and I regret that it took your absence to make that clear to me. You looked happy - in the photos you sent, I mean. Reflecting on it, that is really what matters at the end of the day, and what I want for you more than - well.” He chuckles. “Your mother would have my hide if she knew you weren’t here for the holidays. Are you certain you can’t still get a flight?”

John smiles to himself - this is as unreserved an apology as he could ever have imagined - and suddenly home doesn’t feel as far away. Perhaps the holiday spirit has affected his father, too. 

“I’ll stay here, if that’s okay.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Next time, then. I do hope - ah, Alexander, was it? - will be able to join us.”

“Me too, dad,” John says, grinning more broadly now. “Me too.”


End file.
